


Clever

by AriesDraco



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Humour, I am killing myself, Kinda, M/M, don't ask me to explain this, rofl, what even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 23:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriesDraco/pseuds/AriesDraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short drabbly thing written at 4 in the morning without beta after having watched Skyfall all of once in a cinema without expecting to write anything for it, so forgive me if anything is blatantly and/or glaringly wrong. Q knew Silva. Kinda, sorta. It's one of those online things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clever

When the words came up on the screen, there was more than one reason why he went ‘Oh shit.’ First and foremost, of course, was because he was definitely going to lose his job after this entire debacle was over, which was a pity, because he loved this job. Secondly, there was a slight but non-zero chance that he wasn’t going to live long enough to get fired, considering how they were in the same facility as this dangerous ex-Agent with a vendetta, who had just escaped into said facility. Finally, he was pretty sure he knew exactly who this ‘Silva’ person was now and if anyone else found out, he might have to go die in a hole.

See, there was this guy, and stories starting out like that never ended well. He should have known better, being such a clever boy (and he shivers a little and swallows and feels something between revulsion and admiration), and he can almost heard double-oh-seven’s voice scoffing at his age and experience or lack thereof, so he throws himself into damage control and tries to redeem himself in his own eyes.

A little difficult, though, all things considered. It was humiliating how easy it had for him to be drawn into that internet cat-and-mouse. Hacker versus hacker, capture the flag, always one tantalizing step ahead; he’d never been able to properly trace its source. They started chatting, him and the nameless, faceless stranger, exchanging thorns and barbs while playing their little game, talking about everything and nothing under the sun. Trivial things, literature, art, the weather, favourite programs, favourite programming languages. He boasted, and was flattered, intrigued, aroused by this playfully brazen stranger who challenged him, teased him and led him on. 

One thing led to another and he found himself spending quite some time typing one-handed while desperately wondering what the person on the other side of the screen looked like, the one who stroked his ego (while he stroked himself) by always calling him a ‘clever boy’. 

Now he knew. And he wanted to die.

Even as he steeled himself to set up the trail of breadcrumbs, to make himself useful, he found himself flashing back the hours and hours of incredibly hot online sex, only now he had the visuals. Mr Silva. His hands. His body. His hair, his eyes, his face. What he looked like, eyes glued to his laptop (THIS LAPTOP?!), one hand on the keyboard, the other…

Q swallowed hard, bent his head, and worked harder and faster than he had ever worked in his entire life.


End file.
